Demons & Angels
by Starsky's Strut
Summary: There are vampires loose again in Bay City. Only this time, they're real.
1. Chapter 1

All usual disclaimers apply, we don't own the rights. This story is being written purely for entertainment.

This is a crossover story.

Beta by Kate CMT

**Demons & Angels**

**Co-written By Kreek and Starsky's Strut **

_Prologue_

The ragged man's stomach rumbled loudly. It wouldn't do any good to try to ignore it any longer. He had to get something in his belly. He hated living on the street – Ha! Living- this wasn't 'living' -this was existing. And barely existing at that. Then he remembered why he was here and what had brought him down so low. He knew he deserved to be here.

He sighed heavily, kicked away his moth-eaten blanket and crawled out of his cardboard box. He took a hearty swig from his ever present liquor bottle. Hunger gnawing at him, he heading out in search of something to put in his belly besides alcohol.

XXXX

The couple walked down the secluded, dark and filthy alley. They stopped under the only working streetlamp in the area. Passion overtook them and they were soon entwined in each others arms.

Hands digging deep into pants and under shirts.

Groping, grabbing.

Deeply kissing each other.

Oblivious to everything –and everyone- around them.

They were strangers to the young gang leader. He watched the pair for several minutes and felt his groin muscles tighten. The girl was beautiful. A waif with huge eyes and long dark hair. Her date was slim and taller than the girl. But it wouldn't have mattered if he were a big man –which he wasn't- there were more than enough of the Village Wolves gang to take him out. And share the 'spoils.'

This would be so easy.

And so fun.

The young man decided that he might just keep her alive for a day or two before killing her. Her date however… well his time was now measured in minutes.

The young man could barely contain his arousal and his jean restricted him almost painfully. He nudged his second in command. The second nodded eagerly. Other faces, once hidden in the shadows, slowly emerged. Their eyes darted and glanced. They had been in the gang for years now -each knew their task and needed no words to direct their actions. Rapidly they fanned out and surrounded the oblivious lovers.

It was time.

The leader stepped forward.

Seconds later the alley erupted with sounds of a fierce fight. Shrieks and voices begging for mercy rang through the narrow alley.

And somewhere in the dark, in one of the many low rent apartments in the area, someone called the police.

**Chapter 1**

The raggedy man crouched in the narrow, dirty alley. He could hear the commotion and the screams. It didn't concern him. His business was with the rat that was hiding not two feet from him. He moved in, quietly closing the gap on his four-legged quarry.

The sounds of a lone siren drew near and the ragged man cursed silently and withdrew into the shadows, looking longingly as the rodent scurried into a pile of filthy rags.

XXXX

_Ninth precinct_

"-Zebra three, we are responding code 3." Hutch put the mic back and grabbed the mars light, turning it on, reaching out the window to smack it down on the roof of his partner's pride and joy.

"Dammit Hutch! I just had Merle get the dent out from the last time ya did that. You probably scratched the paint too." The dark-haired detective groused as he shot a glare at his fair-haired partner.

Hutch rolled his eyes and changed the subject; it was a losing proposition to argue about his buddy's beloved tomato… er… Torino. "Do you believe this? This is gotta be the third fight we've been called to tonight. Seems like the town's going crazy lately."

"Forth." Starsky corrected. "And that's Friday night in Bay City for ya."

Hutch's blond hair glinted in the streetlights as he nodded in agreement. "Good thing it's nearly morning." He suppressed a yawn. "It's been too long of a night already. I just wanna wrap this up, get the paper work done and go home."

"I hear ya partner, I hear ya." The curly headed cop pressed the accelerator and the Torino roared down the street.

XXXX

Starsky slammed on the brakes and shoved the car into park the second it stopped moving. He and Hutch were out and dashing towards a narrow alley. They could hear the muffled sounds of a fight.

"Should we wait for backup?" Hutch asked.

There was a shout for help followed by other garbled shouts and thuds of heavy things being tossed about. All thoughts of waiting for reinforcements were forgotten as they pelted in the direction of the sounds of the echoing pleas. He and Hutch exchanged a glance and increased speed.

This was what he liked best about this job, Starsky mused as he raced towards the brawl. Working with his best friend to clean up the streets. There was also the excitement and getting to help others. _Speaking of which_… He noticed something that might get in the way of that notion and grabbed Hutch's elbow to keep him from tripping over a bum's legs in the passage. They didn't break stride and ran in unison, left and right feet slapping the pavement in tandem. Stride for stride they dashed on. All was right with their world.

The commotion further up the alley abruptly stopped and the pair gave each other a quizzical look and slowed to a walk. They pulled their guns and edged near where the ruckus had been coming from.

"By the pricking of my toes, something good this way comes." The voice was female and she'd spoken the strange sentence with a soft, slightly musical cockney accent.

Starsky exchanged a _'What the hell?'_ look with Hutch. They moved closer to the place where they had heard all the commotion. Starsky thumbed back the hammer on his Berretta.

"Thumbs, Dumpling. The saying is 'by the pricking of my _thumbs_, something _wicked _this way comes'. 'Toes' doesn't exactly rhyme with 'good' at all, Love." That voice was male and British accented.

"But Spike, thumbs doesn't rhyme with good, either." There was a whining note in the female's sing-song voice. "And they _are_ good. All the way to the tips of their hair to bottom of their guts. Can't you feel it? I can." She twittered as she sashayed around the man in black. "Soooo good. White knights, comin' t' save the day. It's too late though, far too late. Can't save anything… sun's nearly up."

"So it is." The male replied with an indulgent tone in his voice.

Hutch cautiously peeked around the corner and stared.

Starsky sidled up and peered over his partner's shoulder.

Under a single, dim and flickering streetlamp in the dingy back alley was a couple. The girl was thin, with long hair and a white filmy dress. The man was dressed in black jeans, black shirt with a long black leather duster. These must be the people whom the partners had heard talking moments before.

The lovers were now embracing, kissing under the light of the lone lamppost. They were out of place with the sight surrounding them -a gruesome scene strewn with bloody and broken bodies- some which moved, some that did not.

Starsky noted that the pair didn't seem armed. Their hands –and mouths- were too full of each other to contain weapons.

The waif of a girl leaned back in the circle of the man's arms. "You sure know 'ow to show a lady a good time."

"I try." The man in black gave a throaty laugh, growled and buried his face in her neck before working back to her lips.

The detectives edged closer, Starsky sweeping the area with his gun, making certain neither he nor his partner got any nasty surprises.

The couple continued kissing, apparently unaware of the two cops as they cautiously entered the wider part of the alley. Starsky remembered that this was the old, dilapidated part of Bay City. At one time the alley might have been part of a street, before the big quake of 1952. He noticed that there was another alley joining the first one, making a **T** intersection.

Hutch swung around and checked the new direction, Magnum pointing down that alley as Starsky slid his disbelieving eyes over the ten or so prone young men, who –judging from their clothing and tattoos- were members of the local- and violent- Village Wolves. The smell of blood and other body fluids hung heavy in the air, mingling with the background stench of ripe garbage. He curled his lip at the offensive smell.

Feeling the gaze of his partner, Starsky shared a glance with Hutch. _'How can anyone kiss in the middle of this bloody mess?' _He thought grimly. Hutch shook his head and shrugged at the unasked question.

There was a low groan from the person next to him, Starsky looked down. The battered young man turned his face to the curly haired detective. Their eyes met.

"Not h-human." The gang member coughed, blood splattered wetly to the ground as he spoke. "They ain't huma-" A gurgle issued from his lips as his eyes closed.

Starsky watched out of the corner of his eye as Hutch put his gun away and cautiously knelt next to the youth, checking for a pulse. He could see his blond partner shake his head sadly before getting up to check the next prone body.

"Police" Starsky stated loudly as an afterthought, he'd been so taken aback by the carnage, he'd forgotten to make the announcement earlier. He carefully rescanned the area for any possible trouble spots, heartily wishing backup would arrive quickly. They were obviously going to need help figuring this mess out. "What happened here?" Starsky asked the strange couple as he waved his free hand over the bodies, keeping both his eyes and gun on them. Something about this pair was making him very uneasy.

The man in black stepped back from the girl. "Oh right, bloody-" He coughed and cleared his throat before continuing. "Police… Took you long enough. Right… umm… we were attacked. Right mess that. Terrible when one can't walk the streets anymore without gettin' jumped. Streets ain't safe for decent folks anymore."

The waif giggled coquettishly. "Not safe." She wiggled her fingers at the fair haired detective. Her voice lowered and became husky. "Not safe at all."

Starsky watched as Hutch looked down at one of the twisted bodies. It was the forth person he'd checked on and the third one devoid of life. The brunet understood why his partner hadn't bothered to check for a pulse, since the head was turned completely around, looking like some sort of human/owl hybrid. The eyes were wide open, the jaw gaping in abject terror. Hutch closed the dead man's eyes.

"You two were attacked-" The blond's voice carried a clear note of disbelief to it. "-by all these people… and you fought them off, did this to them…" His words trailed off as the young lady began to glide silently towards him, an intent look on her alluring face.

"What a bloody bright copper you are!" The man called Spike exclaimed as he grabbed the elbow of the petite woman, swinging her away from the blond cop and back to his side. "Right. Jolly good. Now we've got that straight, we'll be leaving. C'mon Dru, let's not keep these two nice policemen from their work."

Starsky cleared his throat and called out, "Hold it right there. I'm sorry, but you're both gonna have to come down to the station with us. We've got questions." He locked eyes with Spike. "Lots of questions."

The man in black stiffened slightly. "I'm sure you've got questions. Coppers always have questions. Thing is-"

"Y-you killed them!"

The man in black stopped talking as one of the gang members staggered to his feet and pulled a gun from under his shirt and pointed it at the unarmed man and the waif. The weapon bobbed wildly as the young man's hand shook.

The gang member looked pleadingly at Starsky, looking incredibly young. "Their faces… It was like somethin' outta 'The Exorcist'." He nodded at the dead body near Starsky. "Low Boy was right. They ain't human." His gun hand shook so hard, the kid had to use his other one to steady it. "Bullets can hit them and they don't die!" There was a 'snick' sound as he squeezed the trigger. The pistol was a hair's breath away from firing.

"Take it easy." Starsky quickly leveled his gun at the young man. "Easy… Put the gun down, son. I don't want to have to shoot you. Please, just take your finger off that trigger, okay? We'll figure this out."

Hutch edged towards the youth, drawing his Magnum from its holster as he did so.

"NO! You don't understand! I'll show you!" The gang member panted, half in pain, half in fear. He leveled his shaking weapon at the man in black.

"Don't!" Hutch called out. "It's not worth it. Do what my partner says. Please."

The young man's hands quit shaking. He took careful aim at the man and his girlfriend.

"NO!" Starsky hollered, pointing his gun at the nervous gang member. A twitch would be all it took for him to fire. The couple was unarmed, he had to defend them.

_BANG_

_BANG_

The bullet from the young man's gun erupted from the muzzle a fraction of a second before Starsky's slug burst out of his.

The youth's projectile hit the man in black square in the chest and he swayed with the impact.

Nearly simultaneously, Starsky's bullet hit the gang member's wrist, breaking his hold on the gun and spinning the kid around, effectively disarming him.

"BLOODY HELL! You ruddy little bastard! That hurts!" The man in black bellowed and jumped over ten feet from a complete standstill –to land directly in front of the kid. One-handed, he lifted the youth over his head and flung him against the wall like a rag doll. There was a sickening 'crack' as the youth hit the side of the building. "I hate getting shot." The man in black pulled at the duster and stuck a finger in the fresh hole over his right shoulder. "Dammit." Irritated, he looked over to Starsky. "Do you have _any _idea how hard it is to find someone to fix leather?"

Momentarily stunned by the impressive gymnastics and violence, the two detectives gaped at the irate man. They traded a disbelieving glance.

Hutch found his voice first. "Take it easy, just sit down and we'll call you an ambulance."

"Call me an ambulance? I'm an ambulance." The man chided Hutch. "There. Now _you_ don't have to call me one. Dru, let's get out of here, I hear sirens. More boys in blue are about to join our little private party. It'll never do."

"I 'ate party crashers." The waif's lower lip popped out into an impressive pout as she whined. "But I 'aven't eaten yet, Spike…I'm soooo 'ungry. Didn't even get a littl' appetizer. Not one bite for me."

"It'll be alright. We'll get you something to eat at the precinct." Hutch soothed, addressing the woman. "You've had quite an ordeal tonight."

Starsky listened to his friend with half an ear as he cautiously checked the male victim. He shook himself. Trauma or no trauma, the pair obviously had serious mental health issues. That's how the injured man had leapt so far and thrown the shooter. He listened intently for a few seconds, but he couldn't hear any sirens that the man-Spike- had claimed he'd heard. But he heartily wished he _could_ hear them. He and Hutch could use the help. It was gonna take all day to figure out who was responsible for this mess.

Remembering how the guy had reacted to the pain of being shot, Starsky didn't touch the wound. He instead looked for blood from the gunshot. He walked around behind the man. It was obvious that the bullet had gone through the chest and out the other side. But no blood was exiting the injuries.

The hairs on the back of Starsky's neck rose, he peered up from the injury to lock gazes with the man in black. He felt a sudden, deep urge to step back, but he forced himself not to move. He was not going to be intimidated by some injured tourist. Spike smiled at him. The expression didn't reach his eyes.

'_Maybe those kids were on ta somethin'...nah…'_ Starsky shook his head at his silly notion and called to his partner. "Hutch, c'mere and take a look at this."

The brunet was getting more nervous as he continued to look for blood. And the fact that he still wasn't seeing any. What made him even more nervous was the way the couple kept so calm after the shooting-or perhaps, and more likely- they were in shock. _Shock could _slow_ the blood flow. But to have no flow at all?_ Starsky's logical side argued. Not likely.

The lovers continued their bizarre dialogue, speaking as if he and Hutch weren't even there.

"Oh all right Dru, grab something and let's get out of here. Sun's comin' up and the law's nearly here. What're you in the mood for? Hmm?"

"Pork."

The word was whispered in Starsky's ear. He was so startled, he jumped. '_How had she gotten that close, that quickly?'_ He turned to look and her and fell into her vast brown eyes. He was lost. He'd never fallen this hard for anyone. Not even Terry Roberts, the woman he'd wanted to marry, until a slowly moving bullet in her brain took her life. This girl was better. She was more… She was everything.

"Be with me…" She whispered and licked his neck.

'_Yes… I'm yours.'_ Starsky's brain whispered back.

"Dru, grab it and let's go! You can eat it later."

"Starsky!"

The curly haired detective could dimly hear his partner's voice. It seemed to be coming from miles away, through a long, dark tunnel.

"Be… with… me…"

"Yes…" '_Anything… anything at all to be with you',_ his mind quietly returned. There were twin pin pricks in his neck. She suckled on him. It felt so good. So right…

"Starsky! Snap out of it! Leave him alone!"

Hutch's voice was louder this time. Starsky shook his head and was stunned to see his partner shoving his way between the enchantress and himself. Reality snapped and confusion washed over him. "What happened?"

"I-I'm not sure know. I think she hypnotized you, I think she was _biting_ you! Back off lady." Hutch pushed her firmly away.

The brunet's head still spun. What _had_ just happened?

"Hands off, Yank! No one hurts Dru but me!" The man in black grabbed Hutch and shoved him against the wall.

Neither detective saw it coming.

One second Hutch was between the waif and Starsky, the next, the tall blond was gasping for the air that had been knocked out of him and struggling to stay on his feet – several feet away from his starting point.

Starsky felt the residuals of whatever she had done to him quickly fall away. Anger flared hotly. No one attacked his partner and got away with it. Spike had already proven himself dangerous by throwing the gun wielding gang member against a building and killing him. And that was _after_ he had been shot. Starsky had chalked it all up to a major adrenalin rush, but by now that should have been wearing off.

"That's it! No more Mr. Nice Guy! Put your hands and the wall and spread 'em!" Starsky used his most authoritative voice. "Now!" He pushed Spike towards the nearest building.

Spike laughed, low and dirty. "Right, well that bloody well does it." He put his hands in front him seemingly daring Starsky to cuff him. "Take me in, Copper. I was gonna let you go, you know. Normally I don't want no trouble with the local bobbies. Regular royal pain in the arse, you lot. But I'm gonna make an exception just for you-"

"Shut the HELL UP and put your hands on that wall!" Starsky barked, taking the dare. He grabbed one of the proffered wrists. "You don't know who you're foolin' with-"

The man flipped his arm around, broke Starsky's grip and quickly grabbed the startled detective's arm and shoved his face close to Starsky's and hissed, "Neither do you mate, neither do you."

The curly haired detective tried to remove his suddenly trapped arm from Spike's steely grip, but felt his blood freeze as his captor's face changed. In a flash, the brows had become heavily ridged and abruptly there seemed to be far more teeth than any normal human had. The canines were longer, thinner and came to a point. The rest of the brunet's world shrank and disappeared. The only thing that existed was this –creature—before him.

He couldn't move.

Couldn't think.

It wasn't possible. What he was seeing just wasn't possible.

"Oh lookit. Poor, poor litt'le bunny. You're scaring it, Spike." A female voice purred.

Her slim hand caressed his cheek and slid into his curly hair. Starsky couldn't move away. His breath came in short puffs, his eyes still locked on the one called Spike and his mouth full of suddenly sharp teeth.

"Whot a lovely, scared litt'le rabbit you are." The strange woman cooed to Starsky, her hand dug into his thick curls and yanked hard, tipping his head back and to the right. She licked his neck.

"NO!"

Starsky could dimly hear Hutch's yell. But he couldn't move. He was too petrified. This scene was straight out of his darkest childhood nightmares. A time when he'd been positive that Dracula lived in his closet. So positive that he'd slept with garlic around his neck for years.

Part of his terrified mind recognized that there was a scuffle now taking place. But he couldn't focus on it. He could see his partner's bright blond head of hair flashing in the lone street light. Could see that the man and Hutch were moving, fighting.

Something heavy smashed him against the wall at his back. His head throbbed, his vision dimmed and he felt a hard catch in his ribs. Starsky gave a weak groan. It slowly dawned on him that the weight nearly crushing him was Hutch. One of the 'creatures' had thrown his friend on top of him.

Just as that realization hit him, Hutch was pulled away and dragged to his feet.

By the waif.

Starsky couldn't make out the words that were spoken, but the casual flirtatious tone of the woman gave him the creeps. He groaned as every bone in his body cried out in agony.

He watched helplessly as Hutch broke away from her and moved in his direction.

Starsky wanted to act, to charge into the midst of the two assailants homing in on his partner like a pair of hyenas. He lay paralyzed by fear. _They're monsters… Things wanting Hutch, tearing him apart in a moment if I don't… _Deep within, his anger grew, until he felt it burning in his chest as it bounced against the restriction of his horror-frozen body. _Move! _But fright still ruled his muscles, his actions, his physical pain, with momentarily ballooned out of proportion.

Gasping in pain, Starsky stayed where he was. It was all he could do to peer through a crack between eyelids that threatened to close any moment. For a brief second he caught Hutch's eye. In the heat of the battle he read his friend's adrenaline-pushed determination to not go down without a fight, to protect his partner, to die trying.

Starsky's own words rang in his mind. _"You see, Hutch an' me, we don't mind buying it on the street…" _How many times had he uttered that sentence? Shouted them at some no good nobody as his own personal mantra. However, unable to do a thing and watching helplessly at a scene in which Hutch didn't stand a chance had not entered his wildest imagination.

Hiding deep within his partner's glance, he saw the terrifying realization that this was wrong. That this couldn't be happening. These _'creatures'_ couldn't be real.

Hutch's fear ricocheted off Starsky's soul and merged with his anger, giving him the strength to move his limbs. With a moan he crawled forward, tediously slow. His efforts not enough to make a difference as the man and strange woman leapt soundlessly toward his best friend.

_No. Hang on, Hutch. Just … fight… damn it._

Aggression pushed him onwards, and amazingly, feeling returned into his extremities. He got up on his feet. For a second all he saw was dirt and grit as he focused on the solid ground beneath him, struggling to remain upright.

Hutch's cry of pain echoed through the early dawn, sweeping through Starsky's agony and snapping his eyes onto the gruesome act in front of him. His partner was on his knees, while the woman … fed. Her teeth sunken deep into Hutch's neck.

The first early morning sun's rays hit high on the tall building surrounding them. The reflected light lit the deceptively peaceful scene. His partner had fallen quiet, as the woman silently had her… diner.

The lone streetlamp sputtered and went out.

"Dru, sun's up." Spike warned.

Tears sprung to Starsky's eyes as the waif released his partner. Her large canines dripped with blood –Hutch's blood- the truth of their situation invaded his brain. '_Vampires… Oh God…No, this can't be…' _The utter look of shock he saw in Hutch's eyes only lasted a mere moment. Then his friend tipped over, hitting the pavement with a dull thud.

Starsky reached out a hand in a vain attempt to get to his partner. The rising sun's first rays blinded him for a second. When he opened his eyes again the man, woman and Hutch were gone.

Startled he looked at the pavement in front of him. In the distance a couple of birds began their morning serenade. It was as if nothing had happened, as if the vampires had never existed.

Surreal… but for the gut wrenching sense of loss that twisted his stomach until his eyes watered with unshed tears. He bit his lip, refusing to give into the devastation creeping up on him. With effort he tensed his sore muscles the pain ebbing away the more he moved.

He stood on shaking legs, the sun gently kissing his body and warming his cold skin beneath his now ragged clothing.

Morning had arrived.

Starsky ignoring the bodies around him, turning his attention toward the surrounding buildings and the crisp blue sky above. "HUTCH!"

The startled cry of a blackbird was all he got in return.

He yelled again. Panic evident in his voice. "HUUUUUUUTCH!"

Nothing.

_No… this is not… happening. Not on our shift…NOT like this… _"You hear that!"

He lifted his head. Anger replaced his fear, pushed aside the terrifying scenes he just witnessed and burst out at the all-compassing emptiness around him. "I DON'T CARE _WHAT _YOU ARE! I'LL BRING YOU DOWN!"

His voice echoed off the firm walls of the cold stone buildings where Starsky was sure someone was listening. He could feel their presence, could sense Hutch was still alive. "I'LL NEVER STOP LOOKING. I'LL HUNT YOU DOWN, EVERY LAST ONE OF YA! UNTIL I FIND HIM!"

He heaved, his energy drained. "YOU HEAR THAT! I'LL FIND HIM!"

Only the moans of the surviving gang member answered him.

**TBC**

Spike and Drucilla are from "Buffy, The Vampire Slayer" Universe. This is a Pre-Buffy (and Scooby's) story and takes place a short while after the S&H episode "The Vampire".


	2. Chapter 2

Hi everyone,

Sorry for the delay in posting. Kreek had her portion written for weeks and RL has and is, being a female dog lately.  
Again, sorry for the delay. Some mild content warnings.Hope you enjoy!

**Demons & Angels**

**Co-written By Kreek and Starsky's Strut **

**Chapter 2**

Mesmerized, the ragged man watched the scene in front of him unfolding. The care reflected in the dark haired cop's voice lashed on to long forgotten memories, to song and dance and familiar voices. A feeling stirred, unwilling but powerful. And he remembered the sweet scent of love. Of family. Of friends.

A growl of anger escaped him and he pulled back. Leaving the curly-haired cop alone with his misery. These food gatherings happened every night. The cop wouldn't see the blond again. Spike and Dru were good hunters and he'd often watched them at work. So why did the brunet's words upset him so much this time around? _I don't care! _He lowered his head in his hands to shake of the demons of his past. _Go away! Go… away! _

As he lifted his head, a movement caught his eye and instinctively his hand shot out. He felt his blood boil, felt it singing in his veins with unkempt anticipation. The rat squirmed in his hand. _Alive… warm. _

He looked up. The brunet sagged onto his knees, looking defeated._ As if his life's been ripped away from him. _How many times had the ragged man felt like this? How often had he been the one to… His stomach turned at the thought and as if stung like a bee - he dropped the rodent. _No, never again. _

The hunger didn't dissipate so quickly though and with a grunt he reached for his trusty bottle.

When the sirens neared, he silently drew back into the darkness of the alley.

XXXXX

"Cap'n, what are you doing here?"

Dobey turned at Starsky's voice and found his detective sitting on a stretcher inside one of the ambulances. He was just in time to see the detective cringe with pain as the male paramedic tightened the bandages around his chest.

"Starsky." He frowned at the scene, which seemed off somehow. "I figured you could use a hand. Are you okay?" He realized what was missing and searched the ambulance, but Hutch was nowhere in sight. Usually the blond would hover over his injured partner like a mother hen. "And where the hell's that partner of yours?"

"I'm fine, Cap. Just got a couple bruised ribs, that's all," Starsky answered, sounding far too distressed for Dobey's liking.

He raised an eyebrow, waiting for his Detective to continue but Starsky kept quiet, confirming Dobey's suspicions concerning Hutchinson's whereabouts. Wisely, he decided to change subject.

Four ambulances stood at the scene. One currently contained Starsky, the second prepared to drive off with the last of the injured, and the final two were needed to transport the bodies, now lying neatly in a row. Dobey turned to watch the coroner at work. "Mind telling me what happened here? How d'you end up in the middle of a gang war anyway?"

"'S not a gang war, Cap'n. They didn't kill each other. These kids were all part of the same group."

"So who's responsible for the carnage?"

Starsky's hesitation wasn't lost on Dobey.

"There, finished" The paramedic stated, drawing the captain's attention toward him. "I suggest you take it easy for a few weeks, no manual labor, no sudden moves."

"Can I drive?" Starsky asked, his tone flat.

"Yes, if you're careful."

Dobey watched impatiently as the brunet stepped off the stretcher and managed to put his shirt and jacket back on. "Starsky, you just heard the man!" He cautioned, going after his detective who left the ambulance to walk briskly toward his Torino.

Starsky halted mid-stride and turned. His look changed unexpectedly from professional to that of a scared little boy, unnerving the Captain, because he had the feeling he knew the reason.

"Two people, Captain," Starsky explained. "One man, one women. The ease and joy with which they killed these kids was… uncanny. You should've seen it. When we intervened, they turned on us." Starsky blinked a couple of times as if remembering a gruesome scene he'd rather forget. "They took Hutch. I couldn't stop them."

The statement made a shiver ran up Dobey's spine. "I take it they were armed?"

To his surprise, his Detective shook his head. That didn't make sense. How could a couple of unarmed assailants beat two of his best cops? When it came to Hutchinson, Starsky would fight to the death to protect him.

"Bullets couldn't stop them, Cap," Starsky added, before Dobey could ask his next obvious question. "We tried."

"Are you saying they wore vests?"

Starsky brought a hand to his chest, releasing a short moan as he tried to cope with the obvious pain he was in. "Maybe." He didn't sound convinced. Straightening, the detective clearly made an attempt to let go of his pain and doubts. Dobey was suddenly faced with the professional he knew Starsky to be. Only this time he could tell the determination burning behind those eyes was born out of a touch of despair.

"Look, Barry's already got my statement." Starsky motioned to one of the officers at the scene and then nodded at the coroner. "And I'm sure Bill can tell you what these kids died of. Right now, I'm going after my partner."

The implied 'and you're not gonna stop me' was pretty clear. Dobey sighed. When Starsky got like this, not even Hutch was able to slow him down. Before he'd finished his nod, the brunet was already opening the door to his Torino. "Starsky! Just keep us in the loop!" But the order was lost in the roaring sound of the engine and the screeching of tires against the tarmac.

Taking a deep breath, Dobey could do nothing but trust in his detective's instincts and capabilities. Trouble was, when it came to Hutch, Starsky would go far.

Too far.

He turned away from the empty asphalt and searched for Officer Barry. Together with the coroner's findings, his statement would tell him exactly how much trouble Starsky and Hutch were in.

XXXXX

Hutch woke up slowly. He was bereft of energy and simply lay where he was. His brain felt muddled and unwilling to help him. He forced the issue and began cataloging what was wrong with him.

Thirst. That was what bothered him the most. He was very thirsty. As parched as he had been when he had been trapped under his car for two days. It felt like he had to pry his tongue off the roof of his mouth and it was so stiff and dry it seemed to be made of cardboard.

Headache. It bothered him the second most. His head hurt and pounded like someone was building a house inside his poor skull.

His eyes burned and felt like someone was slowly ramming hot pokers into them. The tall detective did not relish the thought of opening them, for fear that his eyeballs would pop out of his head, though it might hurt less if they did fall out.

All around him was the pervasive odor of decay. And not just one type, but several distinct varieties invaded his nostrils. For reasons he couldn't fathom, he proceeded to catalogue them. There was mold, a hint of garbage with a dash of sewer, a pinch of vomit, a metallic zing of rust, old wet concrete and dusty, moldering upholstery. Sewn in amongst those scents, was an underlying sickly smell of death. Some had called that particular variety 'sickly sweet'. But there was nothing 'sweet' about the scent of death, at least not to his mind.

He continued to take stock of what was going on around him. The tall detective couldn't feel any restraints on him and he seemed to be lying on something cold, rough and hard. Concrete, perhaps.

"Coo," A lilting female voice called and there was the sound of a finger tapping on metal. "Coo-eee, wake up, precious. Sing us a song." She whistled tunelessly as if to prompt the bird.

Hutch forced his eyes open just a crack, carefully lifted his head and focused on the direction the voice was coming from. The light was dim, but he could make out the figure of a girl in a flowing white gown. A shiver of fear squirmed through him. It was the girl that had attacked him and Starsky. He remembered her biting his neck… and drinking his blood. The waif was unbelievably strong, the sucking and soft guttural sounds she'd made as she fed... He fought of the violent urge to vomit. He'd been powerless to stop her, to fight, or to defend his partner.

His partner.

Hutch stiffened and a shiver of fear slid down his spine. Where was Starsky? The blond was on his left side and could only see part of the room. Through the small slit in his eyelids, he swept the area, doing his best not to draw the waif's attention. He didn't see his friend anywhere nearby. To check out the other part of the room, he'd have to move, his gaze flicked back to the girl. Then again, maybe Starsky wasn't even here. _'Please let him be safe.' _He watched her as she tapped again on a cage hanging near him. She was too close and might see the movement. He held his position.

"Come now pretty bird, sing. Light the room w' your song. Coo-wee litt'le bird." The waif whistled again and peered wistfully into the cage.

The tall detective squinted up at the cage in the dimly lit space. The perch was empty.

She bummed the cage again and this time Hutch saw something move inside it. A stiff wing flopped with the motion of the cage.

The girl was talking to a dead bird.

Looking about, the fair-haired detective could see a few other cages, small animals in some and birds in others. None of them moved. He closed his eyes against the sick feeling that washed over him. Every fiber of his being screamed for him to get out of here. Wherever _here_ was.

"You're awake." The words were slightly husky, soft, lilting and inviting.

And spoken very close to his ear.

Hutch kept his eyes closed, kept his breathing even and feigned unconsciousness. Maybe she wasn't speaking to him. He couldn't hear her breathing, but he sensed she was very close to him. He struggled not to tense up, it would be a dead giveaway that he was awake.

"What're you up to luv?" The voice came from the man in the long black leather duster.

She turned away from Hutch and stood up. "My birds won't sing to me Spike. The litt'le gerbil won't wake up. Why won't it wake up?" She whimpered, tugging on the man in black's arm.

"They're dead, Dru. You've to take better care of your pets, my pet." He tapped her nose with a stern finger. "That means food and water. And sunlight."

"The sun burns Spike. It burns. But the sun is not nearly as bright as 'is light." She glided over to the prone detective and crouched down. She put her hands out in front of her as if she were warming them at a fire. "Can't you feel it? It's all glowy." She sighed contently and changed her position so that she sat cross-legged on the floor next to Hutch. She rubbed her arms and blinked dreamily at him and began to tunelessly hum the 'three blind mice' nursery song.

It had never before occurred to Hutch just how violent that children's song was. It was horrifying –but somehow fitting- to think that she was humming a song about chopping off mice tails with a carving knife.

"Dru," Spike drew the word out. "Don't become attached to your food. It only makes it harder to eat later on. Don't know why you haven't finished eating it yet. It's not getting any fresher."

Dru twittered, reached out a hand and traced her delicate fingers through the detective's blond hair. "Ooooh, sooo soft and silky. Goodness… so much goodness. It almost 'urts to touch 'im." The digits moved to the high brow and rested there. She began gently rocking back and forth. "There, a dash of darkness… deep inside this one, dark things to come. Pain, loss, a fight over a woman that neither truly love… Death… I see it Spike. The angel of death hovers… massive trauma… the body can take only so much… Only the power of love and friendship can save 'im."

"Save who? Are you having a vision my sweet?" The man in black gently kneed the waif's slim shoulders.

She shook her head, not quite knowing the answer herself. " 'ard to see the future. Changing, always changing. We can extinguish the light, Spike. We can turn it to darkness now. No lines, no wait'ing." The husky note was back in the waif's voice as she emerged from her trance.

Hutch felt fangs burying deeply into his neck again. He hadn't heard a sound until he felt the pain. Horrified, he automatically struck out, connecting solidly with cold flesh. "NO!"

Instantly he was lifted off the ground and hurled through the air. He felt something give in his ribcage when he landed. Hutch wheezed, gasping for the air that had been knocked out of him for the second time in hours. His vision dimmed and his head throbbed with pain.

Before he could react, Hutch was dragged several feet inside a metal structure. Leather restraints were placed around his wrists and he was yanked upwards. Head still spinning, the detective could faintly make out the sound of chains clanking as his arms were pulled above his head to the point where he was barely able to stand flatfooted. He gasped at the pain this position gave him, his damaged ribs and many bruises protested loudly.

He tugged desperately, trying to break the steely grip of the smaller man –correction, creature. He still couldn't bring himself to admit the _V_ word. Two other leather cuffs were attached to his ankles and chained to a single eyebolt in the floor. Unable to stop himself, Hutch pulled at his bonds, trying to find some measure of relief from the pain. But deep down, he knew he was not going to be able to free himself. His Adam's apple bobbed wildly in his parched throat. He was totally at the mercy of these two.

The one called Spike yanked Hutch hair, pulling his head back. "Right, you'll never do _that_ again. I should bloody well snap your neck now."

The tall detective could feel the strain in his muscles and tendons as his neck was pulled to the breaking point.

"Spike don't. I don't like to drink from the dead. The blood loses all its luscious flavor." Dru pouted and made a face.

At her words, his hair was released and Hutch gasped lightly with the pain, struggling to maintain his composure when all he wanted to do was run and get as far away from this nightmare as possible.

The waif glided up to him and peered at his face. Hutch took a gamble and looked back at her, being sure to make eye contact. He wasn't sure how to deal with the pair, but the girl seemed to like him. He was not a vain man, but given the situation, he wasn't above using his looks to his advantage. He winked at her.

Dru clapped her hands and giggled. She reached up and traced his lips with her fingers. "Do you think I'm prett'y?"

Hutch flicked his eyes to Spike and instantly the man's face changed, back were the sharp teeth and heavily ridged brow. _Uh-oh_. He settled for giving Dru a watery smile.

"Just eat it and be done with it." Spike hissed angrily through pointy teeth.

The waif slowly made a circuit around Hutch, letting her hands trace his torso as she moved around him. "Oh no Spike, I can't eat it all at once. A fine piece of blond cake like 'im must be nibbled slowly… one bite at a time… until its aaalllll gone." She singsonged as she moved to stand in front of him once again. Dru leaned in, stood on the tips of her toes and licked his left cheek.

Bile burned the back of Hutch's throat. Her tongue, like her hands, were cold. Dead cold. He forcibly repressed a shudder of revulsion brought on by being licked by a living corpse.

When she finished, she tilted her head from side to side, like a dog hearing a strange, but intriguing sound for the first time. "Just lookit 'im Spike, 'e's all blond and frowny."

Spike growled dangerously.

Drucilla gave Spike a wicked, sultry look, recognizing the seething jealously burning in her demon lover's eyes. She turned to Hutch and sashayed back to the detective and cupped his manhood through his pants.

Hutch held his breath, unsure what to expect next.

"Co blimy! 'e's 'ung like a 'orse!" Her eyes popped wide open and she gave the bond detective an amazed, but pleased smile. She reached for his belt buckle.

"Dru!" Spike barked angrily and attacked the waif, wrestling her to the floor.

"Oooh that's it Spike, I like it rough." The girl purred as she fought back.

They proceeded to tear at each other's cloths in a frenzy of heated passion.

Unable to move away from the pair, Hutch had to stand there and do his best to ignore what was going on right at his feet.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**Demons & Angels  
****Chapter 3**

The ragged man took a swig from his bottle. He wasn't upset by the gang members' deaths. They were a real bad ass group who'd finally gotten their just desserts by a pair of vampires. Any remaining members would think twice about attacking a seemingly harmless couple again.

He tilted the container up and the warm liquid trickled into his mouth a drop at a time. And stopped. It was empty now. Just like his life.

He ran a hand through his dirty, shaggy dark hair. He needed more alcohol –a lot more -to drive away _his_ demons. The man snorted. His demons would never be gone. He was stuck with them forever. As he continued to thread his way through darkest alleyways, his thoughts returned to the massacre he'd witnessed along with the aguish of the lone cop. He scrubbed a hand down his face, that guy'd never see his friend again.

Well, at least not alive.

The ragged man shook his head sadly. It was tough to feel for someone else when he was mired in his own grief. But for some reason, this particular incident was getting to him. And that thought made him quicken his pace as he headed to a local bar where he knew he could do a little work and get enough to buy himself more liquid oblivion to hastily drown this mysterious spark of compassion.

XXXX

Huggy looked up as the front door opened to his establishment. "We're closed now, come back in an hour!" The person, backlit by the slowly closing door, trotted down the steps. The bar owner sighed heavily before trying again. "I said-"

"I heard you Huggy. I need your help," came the strained voice of Detective David Starsky as he swiftly strode towards the bar.

A frown crawled crossed the dark man's features. "Starsky my main man, how many times have I gotta say that you and Hutch have'ta enter through the back door, you'll scare off my patrons-" The bartender broke off his customary tirade as he got a good look at his friend's face. It was a look he'd seen only once before, in a little room above his bar after some turkeys had kidnapped Hutch and strung him out on heroin. It was a look Huggy had hoped he'd never live to see again. That look was a frightening combination of anger, pain, fear and determination.

Starsky was hunting.

And when Starsky was on the hunt, all a bear had to do was look at him and it'd die of fright, no gun required.

The bartender briefly pressed a hand to the region of his heart. He was very glad he wasn't the one in Starsky's sights. He almost felt sorry for whoever was. Almost.

Starsky walked by Huggy put his hands on the bar in front of him, bracing himself, his head hung down low between his tense shoulders. His body language spoke volumes for the silent man and Huggy noticed a slight tremor in his friend's arms. Only one thing could get his curly haired friend so wound up. The bartender swallowed hard. "It's Hutch, ain't it?"

Starsky nodded and the slight tremor remained.

Huggy's heart cinched up tight. If Hutch was hurt, Starsky'd be at his side, unless... _Oh hell_. "He didn't- He's not-"

"No!" Air hissed from between tightly clenched teeth and a jaw muscle rippled under the Starsky's olive tinted skin. "He's not dead. He's not. But they've got him, Hug. They've got him and I gotta find a way to get him back. Quickly. I gotta have answers." Again air hissed through clenched teeth. "How do I say this?" The detective muttered as he made a small, troubled course before the bar.

Huggy looked at his friend in consternation. "Say what? C'mon Starsky, just spit it out. If you tell me, I can help you."

Huggy watched as the agitated man stopped his fretful motions to scan the nearly vacant bar. Starsky spotted a ragged man sweeping the floor. Clearly whatever he was about to tell Huggy, he didn't want any eavesdroppers.

The bar owner reached out and gently shook his friend's shoulder. "Don't worry about Liam, he's okay. Now tell me what the hell is goin' on? Where's Hutch?"

Starsky's face was pale. He coughed and looked about once more before making eye contact with Huggy. "You're not gonna believe it… hell, _I _don't believe it." His teeth clicked together audibly. He paced for a few seconds.

"What happened?"

The detective threw up his hands. "I'll just say it. Vampires, Hugg. Two _vampires_ got him. They attacked us. There was a gang --a whole GANG, armed to the teeth-- and they –this thin dark haired guy and this little waif of a girl- killed nearly all of the Village Wolves. Easily. Those two _enjoyed_ it. I-I know what you're thinkin'. I ain't crazy." He glared at the bartender, daring him to disagree with him. "This ain't like that ballet instructor playin' at being a vampire. These things really _are_ _vampires_." He furrowed his fingers through his tangled curls as he struggled with the concept.

Huggy sighed. He knew that one day this would happen and he was ready. He bent down and grabbed a box from under the counter and dropped it on the wooden bar with a bang. A small cloud of dust billowed off of it.

The anguished detective stopped his agitated pacing to stare, first at the dusty cardboard box and flicked his eyes to the bar owner behind it. "What's that?"

"This, my main detective - turned vampire hunter- is everything you need to stop those pesky _children of the night._" Huggy eagerly opened the box as he continued. "You don't know how long I've waited for someone to take this problem seriously. I mean, yeah, with that ballet dude killin' those lovely ladies off, I made some quick dough on those phony vamp kits, ya know? Twenty bucks a pop." He grinned at the memory of fleecing the ignorant.

Seeing the storm clouds rolling in on Starsky's expressive face, Huggy quickly sobered. "I've been aware of the real problem for sometime now. Jus' been… um… too busy to handle it myself." He choked on his words. He'd been scared shitless when he had encountered his first real vampire. Scared enough to look up and stock every known –or suspected- deterrent, repellent and killing device he could find. "So I-"

Huggy's words were cut off as Starsky latched onto the collar of his shirt and the Bear found himself pulled halfway across the bar in a blink. His slightly beaky nose was now mere inches away from the angry detective's.

"You KNEW about the vampires? You knew and didn't tell _us_?" Starsky gave him a hard shake.

"Can't breathe." Huggy gasped and clawed at Starsky's fingers. The angry man had an iron grip. The informant worked harder to free himself. "S-sorry. I'm sorry." The words came out as a squeak. "But would you've believed me before today?"

The reasoning worked and the curly-haired cop eased his grip, just a little. "What else do you know? D'you know where I can find them?"

"Starsk, I'm on your side, okay? I have an _idea_ where they might be. They'd have to have a dark place and plenty of privacy-"

"Where?" The word was a dangerous hiss.

"Do you remember the old subway system?"

XXXX

Darkness.

All encompassing darkness, broken only by the soft dripping of some broken water pipe in the distance. Hutch's arms hurt, his hands felt numb from being held overhead for what must have been hours now. Time was hard to tell in this place. He wondered if night had fallen outside. The smell of stale water graced his nostrils.

He shivered.

The strip light overhead flashed on. Hutch looked around the room, and for the first time realized he was in a subway car, chained to one of the overhead handrails. He shivered slightly with the cool dampness that hung in this place.

His brows knitted as he struggled to recall what he knew of the subway. On long night on stakeout, Starsky had regaled him –in excruciating detail- about the history of the Bay City Subway system. It was abandoned after the big quake of '57, when much of it had collapsed and remained like that to this day.

Hutch realized that he was in one of those abandoned subway cars. The overhead strip light embedded in the car's ceiling, shone through the broken windows and open door of the car, dimly illuminating the world beyond. He was just able to make out part of a wall and a stairwell that headed up. Up to the surface and to a reality that he understood.

Without warning, the light went off and he was drenched in darkness again.

Footsteps closed in.

He turned his head, straining to pinpoint the direction of the sole on soil sound. Images from all those 'V' creature feature movies that Starsky had 'forced' him to watch at night with the lights off sprang to mind. His partner loved to create a creepy atmosphere beforehand, but his setting now couldn't compare to the nightmare Hutch found himself in now.

A loud buzz startled him. The strip-light… it flashed on, off and on again. A white cold light, causing the blackness beyond the car to look darker still. Hutch jumped at the figure standing in the doorway. Where had she come from? Dru's face looked a deathly pale.

The light flashed off.

Fear pushed in on him from all sides. He could feel her moving, coming closer. No breathing… Terrified, Hutch pulled on his chains.

On.

The waif walked toward him, like a shade, drifting nearer, her tongue breaking her sweet sickly smile as it caressed her upper lip in obvious exhilarated anticipation.

Off.

He sensed her movement, felt it with every bone in his body. Sweat covered his brow in a thin layer, then fell on the floor's metal grating. In the oppressing silence, he heard its soft dripping sound as it mingled with the drip drop sound of the water from the broken pipe in the distance.

On.

She was in his personal space. Her face hideously contorted to accommodate her elongated upper incisors. Her features were demon-like, ready for the kill. Hutch jerked backwards in terror. Pain shot through his ribs, but he didn't acknowledge it. All he saw was the waif circling him, licking her lips.

Off.

He heard her drawing in a breath close to his ears. Not to sustain her life but in preparation to take his. When she exhaled, the air grazed the skin in his neck, ice-cold: the breath of the dead.

On.

Teeth gleamed in the sudden light as she ruffled his hair and pulled his head back none too gently. He couldn't stop shaking.

Off.

Flaming hot pain lanced through him as her sharp bite broke the skin and artery in his neck. The agony became overwhelming before dulling to a mere ache as she started to suckle. All he could hear were her gulps and the dreaded guttural sounds as she drank his blood; her lips pressed firmly on his neck.

His senses numbed as sleep overcame his struggling spirit to stay alive. When he drifted into unconsciousness he thought he heard her mind whispering to him, soft-spoken words that beckoned like a siren on a cliff. Her blood seemed to sing to him, begging him to join with her; become like her.

"Dru!" Spikes voice shattered the car. The light turned on permanently.

Hutch gasped as the waif released him with a start.

"What the hell are you doing!"

Through blinking eyes Hutch could see Dru's face had turned back to normal. He sagged against his restraints, unable to keep himself upright.

"Oh but Spike, it's been such a long time since I _sired_ one so blond and beautiful. Look at 'im! All wet and … Juicy."

Spike stepped up to her, raking a hand through his short dark hair. "How many bloody times do I have to tell you,_ siring_ is dangerous! Having Angelus lurking around here is bad enough. We don't need any more of our sort 'round!"

"'e's mine," She pouted. Hutch tried to back off as she turned her attention back to him and caressed his cheek with the back of her hand. "I want to play with 'im… sing with 'im."

Spike roughly turned her around and patted her bottom. "Now, be a good girl and eat your diner properly. We can't have an unfinished plate here. Any leftovers you'll leave to me, love." He gave her a little push towards the bound man.

Her lower lip started to quiver, then she turned as Spike left the subway car and trotted off into the darkness. Dru sighed and snapped around to face Hutch again. "Jealous like a litt'le bird 'e is. Jealous of my beautiful blond." She stomped her foot petulantly.

Hutch knew he wouldn't survive another feeding. He was already slipping into shock from the blood loss he'd sustained already. "Th… then why d'you do what he says?" He croaked, then coughed, clearing his voice and struggling to find the moisture in his mouth to speak. . "If you like me … that … much. Keep me alive."

She walked toward him. "Oooh, but I can't. Spike's song is so sad… I can 'ear it… like poetry it is… always singing in my 'ead. Rather like my bad daddy's voice." Instantly, her face turned demon-like again.

She titled his head back once more, this time in a more gentle fashion, Hutch's survival instinct went into overdrive. He struggled, but she held him tightly.

"Aw… shhhh… don't be scared, litt'le bird. I promise it won't 'urt this time." She purred quietly into his ear.

Her incisors touched his skin. A small nip. A prelude to her bite. Suddenly the answer came to him; the clue on how to keep her on his side of the fence instead of on Spike's, how to entice her, and lure her in.

As she prepared to feed, Hutch opened his mouth and started to sing. "Oh Mandy… er –_cough_- Oh Drucilla, well you came and you gave without taking, but I sent you away…"

**TBC**


	4. Chapter 4

Hi All,

It's been a VERY long time since I've written anything. Sorry about that.

As some of you know, this year has sucked through a straw for me (Strut). I thank you all for sticking with me and this story. Kreek and I are working on chapter 5 and with some luck, should have another chapter out… sometime. I say sometime because every time I give a date, I'm wrong. (Grin)

Enough babbling, on with the story…

Summary: Hutch is held by vampires Drusilla and Spike while a desperate Starsky searches for his friend…

(Any errors remaining are mine and not Kreek's)

**Chapter 4**

_Why the hell did you tell him about the old subway system? _Sweeping the entrance floor, Liam turned to catch Huggy's eyes, only to find a determined Detective Starsky marching straight for him. One hand balanced the box that the bartender had given him and the other rummaged inside it to pull out a small cross on a chain.

Startled, Liam barely had time to press himself against the open door before Starsky, cross and all, bumped into him. Adrenaline pumped through his system when the detective brushed passed. Without a backward glance, the man disappeared in the twilight. Sobering instantly, Liam shuddered to think what would have happened if he hadn't looked up in time.

With a hooded expression, he locked his dark eyes on Huggy's. "You shouldn't have told him that. If he finds them, he's a dead man."

"Without Hutch, I doubt it'll make much of a difference," Huggy stated. He looked away, out of the window. "You have to help them." There was a plea in the quiet voice.

"I can't." Liam's tone was flat and emotionless.

"Can't or won't?" Huggy turned to face him again, harbouring a hard expression. "Look m'man, you've got your demons, I've got mine. And from what I've heard it's nothing short of a miracle that you're here sweeping my floor, instead of…" The bar owner trailed off, as he shook his head in a disgusted fashion.

_I bet my demons are scarier than yours_. Liam thought sarcastically and he froze as the familiar hunger surfaced within him, he looked at the bar owner and then his gaze dropped, just a little. Always the _hunger_… he had to suppress it, or else… He forcefully shoved the pangs away and raised his eyes to meet the other's once more. "It's really more of a curse than a miracle." The words were soft, conveying a world of bitterness, sorrow and pain.

Huggy, obviously sensing the tall man's internal struggle, stopped pushing. His face softened, his dark eyes were pleading. "So, what d'you think it takes to save two angels, Liam?"

XXXXX

Hutch hung limply in the chains, his long legs no longer able to support him and weakness left him unable to even lift his head. Air was in limited supply due to his body being pulled down by gravity, stretching out his diaphragm. He'd have to stand soon or he would suffocate. He only distantly felt an itch as thin, red fluid sluggishly oozed out from around his damaged wrists where the cuffs had dug in and cut him. On his neck, the twin holes dribbled blood as well. He wondered in a vague way how there was any blood left in his veins for that to happen. It… _she_ had nearly drained him dry. Hutch licked his cracking lips with an equally parched tongue. What he wouldn't do for something to drink right now…

His sluggish brain sauntered over the last time he'd been conscious. Time had passed since then, how much, he had no clue. The last thing he remembered was just before the black jacketed Spike had stomped away in a huff, disappearing up the darkened steps.

"_Shut the bloody 'ell up! I hate Barry Manillo!" Spike had suddenly appeared at Drusilla's side. His compact, wirery body quivering with rage. And jealousy. "I should track Manillo down and suck him dry, that's wot I should do."He gave Hutch a push. _

"_Oh Spiiike," the waif trilled. "Oy like it. 'is voice is like warm 'oney meltin' over me." She hugged her captive and licked his neck as she purred, cat like. "Oy could listen alllll day. She fingered the detective's silken locks. "'is 'air is like the sun got caught in it. Lookit it Spike. I've never seen such color. It makes me all 'ot. 'ot 'n melty." Dru rubbed against Hutch again. "Meeee-ow. Makes me wont to 'ave steamy sex." Her dark eyes focused in on Spike's. _

_Spike gave a low rumble of pleasure and reached for her._

_She swatted his hands away and pouted. "Not with you. Something sweeter. I'm in the mood for a blintz. A big, blond blintz." Dru cupped Hutch's chin, tilting it back and forth to get a better look. "I could make 'im one of us Spike. I could turn 'im and when 'e wakes, 'e could sing to me forever. I could find out if blonds really are more fun." She cooed. _

"_Have more fun, love," Spike automatically corrected. "It's _have, _dumpling."He tapped her nose with one long finger. _

_She backed away from the touch and pushed her hands under Hutch's shirt, trailing slim, sensitive –cold dead- fingers over his chest and trailing down to his stomach and back up again. "'ave, wont, whot's the difference?" her wandering digits slipped between the tops of his pants and his underwear and gently digging in with her long nails, she raked them up his skin towards his chest. _

_The detective sucked in a sharp breath and tensed. _

_The demon called Spike snarled, obviously jealous of the attention she was lavishing on Hutch._

The tall detective figured he must have faded out, for when next he opened his eyes, Spike was gone and Drusilla was slowly swaying and moving about the room to a tune only she could hear. Mercifully, the world dimmed around him and all went black.

XXXX

Spike bounded up the steps that lead out of the old subway system. So Dru was hungry for a blond, huh? He'd find her a blond.

The daylight from outside their lair was dimming. He'd known that before he'd even gotten this far. The demon in him was instinctively aware of when the sun was safely down. Having been a vampire as long as he'd been, Spike could move about more freely than most, so long as he had some sort of protection –a blanket, or his long coat. Sure he'd start to burn and smoke- but daylight hadn't dusted him yet, he smirked to himself. He was even more tolerant of the sun than Drusilla, who was older than him. It was an edge over other vamps.

_Dru_… A sigh escaped him. How he loved her. The only way he could put it was that Drusilla was _his_, her affections _his_, her desires, _his_. He indulged her love of small creatures, but every fiber of his being raged against allowing her to even fondle the blond mortal. But she would be very pissed if he killed her human toy before she was ready. But he could handle that.

It was going to die, of that Spike was certain. If Dru brought the cop over, the detective would be killed as soon as Spike could arrange it. No one would be permitted to get between them. It wasn't really the man she wanted. It couldn't be. Their passion and love was strong. This was yet another phase she was going through, so all he had to do was humour her, play along for a bit and maybe… He reached up and fingered his hair, pulling a dark lock down to look at it thoughtfully.

XXXX

Spike exited the small hair salon and for the first time in a long time, wished he could see his own reflection. It didn't take long for the hairdresser to notice that –in a place full of mirrors- her new client had none. He'd watched her do a double take, looking in the mirror and then back to him. Not quite believing what sat before her. He'd given her a charming grin. Humans were so stupid. He licked his lips, savouring the flavour of a fresh meal. His tongue slipped out and rimmed his mouth and teeth, relishing glorious taste of terror and adrenalin tanting the blood of a victim who knew the worst was coming… Spike's fangs grew longer and he closed his eyes reliving the sensation.

The vampire was pulled out of his thoughts as the streetlights came on with a sputtering hiss and sizzle. Spike couldn't help but pull down a lock and look at it. _Right!_ _Bloody well top this copper. _He smiled widely. _Oh yeah, Drusilla, eat your heart out_.

With a spring in his step, Spike made his way back to the den and waltzed down the steps of the abandoned subway station. His sharp ears picked up the sound of the doomed human. The voice was cracked and nearly inaudible. He smiled widely, it was nearly done for, its life nearly drained from its veins.

Dru hadn't seen him yet. Spike sauntered closer, hearing his beloved humming under her breath and her soft steps as she moved about the room. He wiped his proud smile away. It simply wouldn't do for her to see it. Coming down the last landing and turning the corner, he watched her in the dim light swaying and dipping, cavorting in a girlish dance before the human. She swung her long skirt out, fanning it this way and that.

He leapt from the upper landing to the floor, ending up just paces away from Drusilla, his long leather coat snapping and popping in the breeze created by the effort.

She spun around.

Spike straightened his coat and primped before her, running a hand through his hair that was now stiff with gel and platinum blond in colour.

Obviously startled, Dru's eyes widened and her hand flew to her open mouth, covering it.

Spike raised an eyebrow knowingly. This was what he'd wanted, feeling vindicated, his excitement level rose. There would be hot, nasty sex and soon. Oh yes. This was defiantly the reaction he'd hoped for. He couldn't help but smile.

Drusilla broke out into peals of laughter, at first holding her sides and finally grabbing hold of the dangling human for support as her laughter intensified. "Oh," She gasped between bouts, Dru tried again. "Oh Spike! Whot 'ave you done to your 'air?"

The smile froze on his lips and his heart hit the floor. This was defiantly NOT the reaction he'd wanted.

A fiendish look crossed her features and she gained her feet, mincing over to face him. She waggled a finger in his face. "You're jealous! Spikey's jeal-ous!" She skipped little girl fashion around him and sing-songed mockingly. "Spikey's jeal-ous! Spikey's jeal-ous!"

Bitter bile rose high in the back of Spike's throat. This was not the response he was looking for. He angrily spun on his heel and made his way back up the steps with Dru's sing-song voice trailing behind, battering his already fragile ego and boiling over his hot temper. He needed a distraction.

He needed something to kill.

XXXX

_Abandoned _

_Discarded _

_Forgotten _

Not sure if he'd been thinking about Hutch or the sight in front of him, Starsky peered through the large black gate guarding the way to the old subway system. Brick walls, blackened with age lead to some stairs disappearing down into the darkness. This particular entrance, located just off the main street, was one of the most accessible.

Drizzle started to fall between the buildings looming over him and the temperature dropped, but the shiver crawling up his spine had nothing to do with that. Tightening his grip around his Beretta, Starsky doubted whether the gun would be enough to hold off the demons. It hadn't before. For the first time since this morning he hesitated, torn between his need to find his partner and the horror of a world he didn't understand. _Hutch, I swear to God, if you weren't down there…"_ His free hand groped for the chain around his neck. The feeling of the familiar cross-shaped object settled him down somewhat.

Pondering whether he should alert Dobey, Starsky turned to look at his Torino parked forlornly in the street. _And then what? _His colleagues wouldn't believe him. And if he could convince them, perhaps telling them that the perps were down there, they would go in unprepared for the 'things' they would face. Their guns would be utterly useless. _Chances are none of them would come out alive._ He shuddered, remembering the morning's carnage.

"You call in the cops, and they'll die. All of them." A smoky, velvet voice shattered his  
thoughts.

Starsky whipped around, swinging his gun about, only to find the street empty. Confused, he turned back again, focusing on the gate and the blackness beyond. A man melted out of the shadows, ascending the last couple steps.

"I can help you, but you have to go in alone. No police, no back-up." The voice sounded stern and rough with experience and knowledge, even though, when he could discern his features, Starsky figured he couldn't be more than thirty years old. The guy was tall, with black tangled hair and a tattered, billowing overcoat. He wasn't well kept, judging by the sour smell of alcohol wafting across, but that didn't match with the eyes, which conveyed ageless wisdom, usually found only in elderly folk, or war veterans. Grandma Starsky would have called them 'old eyes'.

Starsky took a step back, keeping his gun trained on the black gate and the figure behind it. "You wanna tell me who you are?"

"You can call me… Liam. Huggy sent me." The man spoke with a serious tone while looking him straight in the eyes, seemingly unimpressed by the deadly weapon.

Starsky frowned, clenching his teeth in anger as recognition swamped him when he studied Liam more closely. _He's the guy I saw sweeping the Pits! Something else Huggy didn't tell me!_ "Why should I trust you?"

Despite the gun pointed at him, Liam stepped forward until his face was just an inch away from the iron bars.

"Because if you don't, your friend is dead. Not that I really care, one way or the other. I'm only here because I owe Huggy a favor." The dark eyes were intense.

Starsky gauged his options. Chances were Liam was trying to trick him. Chances were the man would morph into one of those 'things' and crash through the gate the moment he'd lowered the gun.

"I can take you where you want to go," Liam repeated, the words were spoken with force.

Priding himself on being able to read people, Starsky was nervous to find he couldn't read Liam at all. On the one hand the man radiated trust, but on the other Starsky felt a deep instinctive need to run. Chances were he should listen to that. Chances were… Hutch was already dead.

In the end he had no choice. If there were any chance that Hutch was alive, he knew he'd have to take it.

The moment he lowered the gun, Liam wrenched open the gate and stood aside. Starsky eyed the broken lock suspiciously as he squeezed passed it. Rusted and decayed, it was a wonder the gate had opened so easily.

"Follow me," Liam ordered.

_Hug, you better be right about this guy, because I swear if he kills me, I'll be comin' back to haunt ya!_ Without a backward glance he followed Liam down into the dark, dank abandoned subway system.

TBC


End file.
